Black Poetry : beyond me

it is your world
I am simply
flotsam on the
tempest of your sea
in the pitch of
oblivion
oblivious to
you the focas
you the periphery
knowing nothing
save the breeze
that brings scant
recognition
senseless
in this lightless condition
simply adrift
with nothing save
words to send
on currents
scarcely touched
and mostly
beyond me